Bittersweet
by mimithenumberon
Summary: A bet is proposed. The loser has to buy a sex toy and contrary to all expectations that loser turns out to be FDR. Now will he take that humiliation lying down? Nope. But would he end up pushing Tuck too far? You bet. Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, slight bad language. Hope you like and please review! XD ENJOY!


**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (read it at ur own risk XD), M/M, Slight bad language**

**This was a requested fic by _Broken Promises 22 _so the idea is all hers. I can only take credit for the writing and hope it's up to the expected standard. XD Well i sincerely hope you all like it and i'd really appreciate it if u took the time to leave a review. Pretty please. O3O They're literally my only rewards so u can imagine how happy they make me...Well either way, ENJOY!  
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**Also, i do NOT own This Means War or any of the characters (except for the owner of the shop. X3)**

_**Bittersweet**_

To say he was angry was an understatement. FDR was enraged! And, as per usual, he had nobody to blame but himself. Of course that's not how _he_ saw it...In his mind, Tuck was the one found guilty and he muttered to himself about the injustice of the world. The stars above seemed to smirk and giggle at him with their twinkling eyes while the moon shone ribboning rays of comfort. It wasn't that late, but being winter the days were shorter and it was already dark. FDR didn't complain though. Dark meant less people and less people meant less embarrassment. It was bad enough he lost the bet but to have an audience witness his crippling defeat? That would be downright shameful...

One quick glance above him and he scowled. He'd arrived at his destination. The building was everything one would expect out of an Adult Store. It was wedged in between a charity shop and what seemed to be a butcher's, the street being a rather secluded one just off the main road. It had two small windows, more there for the decorative purposes than for expositions, and the name of the shop flashed in bright, blinking red. Sugar &Spice. FDR couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The word 'tacky' came to mind...

With a defeated sigh, FDR glanced along the street one last time, happy to note nobody was in sight, and pushed the door open. A bell chimed, declaring proudly the arrival of a new customer, and his ears were immediately filled with a soft but enticing instrumental melody. Well the inside looked way less tacky than he had originally anticipated, and he'd been in a few Adult Stores before. There was something pleasing about the dim light and the thin trails of incense smoke spiralling around the room. But he soon ground his teeth upon remembering WHY he was there.

'See anything you like?' The agent stared in the direction of the sound and was surprised to find a stunning beauty behind the counter, her long fingers holding a lit cigarette and her green eyes studding him with mild curiosity. It was too dark to notice any minor details but FDR knew he would recognise her in a crowd, she was that breath taking. Her charcoal strands melted into the surrounding shadows and gave her an almost fantastic quality.

Had he not been in a relationship, or on a 'mission', he would have definitely exerted his charm. She looked like one of those experienced ladies, the difficult ones to get but the sort which were worth every frustrating second. His thoughts darkened again when thoughts of Tuck began filtering through...Without really paying attention, his eyes darkening with fresh rage, he grabbed the closest toy and, keeping a perfectly straight face, handed it to the mystery woman.

'That will be all then?' She smiled in a way which wasn't quite sweet but it held no offence either. As mysterious as the lady herself.

'Yeah, thanks.' He tried not to sound irked but he couldn't help the edge to his voice. He practically had to push the simple sentence through grinding teeth, all his usual charm gone right out the proverbial window. She didn't seem to mind though.

She asked for the money, he paid. She placed it in a paper bag, he accepted it. She smiled at him, he half-heartedly returned something vaguely resembling a smile.

'You know, the wheel of misfortune can spin the other way. All it needs is a little push.' FDR had one foot outside the threshold but he stopped when she began to speak. He frowned, wondering about the meaning of the phrase. It almost sounded like she knew...But that was absurd. He nodded, unsure of what exactly to say, and quickly left.

The fresh air felt exquisite against his skin. He was happy to see there was still no sign of other people and he pulled up the collar of his jacket before hurrying away, not really talking notice of his surroundings. He could have walked in the middle of a busy runway and he probably wouldn't have realized it, until he was in the hospital that is... But he had a clear destination in mind. His punishment wasn't quite over yet. He still had to prove to Tuck, the cause of his torment, that he had gone through with the 'mission'.

_The wheel of misfortune can spin the other way. _

The beauty's words flashed across his mind and he abruptly halted. Wait a moment...The wheels began to spin, faster and faster, knocking al the misleading cobwebs away. Why exactly was he being angry when, in fact, he had been given the gold opportunity of the century? Sure he lost the bet. Sure his pride took a vicious hit. But he wasn't the sort to take a beating lying down...Not quietly.

_All it needs is a little push..._

* * *

Tuck yawned, switched the channel, yawned again and stretched his arms above his head. He checked the clock. 1.00 AM. Pretty late, or early, depending on how one looked at it... The actress on TV was gasping and running through a dark forest, chased by some masked man with a large knife. She tripped and Tuck rolled his eyes. It just seemed to him that running through a forest, during the dark, most likely completely lost was a bad idea. But then again what did he know? It wasn't like he was dealing with ridiculously high risk situations on a somewhat regular basis. Yes, he was being very sarcastic.

...knock knock...

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He turned his gaze to the entrance door but didn't move to open it, actually wondering if the sound had simply been a figment of his imagination or drifting noise from the rambling TV.

Knock Knock Knock

That made up his mind. Tuck scratched the back of his head, not really in any mood for company, but his manners dictated he had to leave his comfort zone. And the heroine was just about to be 'killed' too...His moves were sluggish, completely betraying his unwillingness.

KNOCK KNOSCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK...

'All right, all right! I'm coming already...What's the hurry?' It seemed the insistent banging was determined to hurry him along and Tuck closed the distance in a few easy strides. His expression wavered between annoyance, ready to turn whoever was waiting outside away, and fake joy, ready to exchange pointless pleasantries with whomever was waiting outside, but when he swung the wooden barrier open and stood face to face with a grinning FDR his expression turned to open-eyed surprise.

'Man, you're letting your countrymen down with that sort of half-assed hospitability. Aren't you like supposed to invite me in for a cup of tea or something?' He wasn't even trying to hide his teasing cheek but Tuck didn't seem to register much. It only served to stretch FDR's grin wider, the sort of crescent moon display which would have the Cheshire Cat fuming with jealousy.

'What are you doing here?' FDR made his way passed Tuck, making himself perfectly at home, this not being his first time there. He arched an eyebrow at the other agent in a mock gesture.

'Should I be worried about your short memory loss? We had a bet to settle didn't we? Ring any bells?' His amusement grew when Tuck's expression completed the transition from surprised to shocked.

Alright, Tuck hadn't expected that...He ogled, rude as it was, FDR while his mind ran through the events which led to the 'bet' earlier that day. Considering the consequences, one might expect some sort of cataclysmic event or important resolution but really it was coincidence with a capital C. That and FDR's usual input.

The bet itself cantered around a typical pool game but on that day FDR felt mischievous and cocky since he was winning big time. Even Tuck could admit that it would take a miracle to save him. So FDR proposed the loser of the game do one thing the winner asked. He had such an innocent looking smile and big wide eyes Tuck let his guard down, the guard which screamed at him to remember the devious devil scheming behind that deceitfully cute mask. Surely FDR couldn't ask for anything _too_ bad...right?

'Alright mate. But since it's obvious who the winner will be you might as well tell me in advance.' Tuck eyed the last two coloured globes, even knowing there was no hope but still trying to device a desperate escape plan. He was nothing if not a fighter. His focus was solely on the table, his position ready to strike, and he missed seeing the glint in FDR's eyes.

'True. Not like _I _have anything to lose. I want you to go to an Adult Store and buy a sex toy.'

'WHA-!' Tuck's arms shot out, the stick striking the green ball, while his head snapped to gawk at his partner. It all happened in a flash after that. In a split second FDR's wide grin dissolved like glass in Hydrofluoric acid and his eyes widened with alarm. Tuck followed his gaze and his own eyes widened as well but with wonder. A miracle DID happen. He was just in time to see the last of the ball roll into one of the tunnelling holes.

'No way...' Tuck burst into laughter immediately followed by a display of Kung Foo with his newest deadly weapon, the pool stick. Judging by the sour look on the other's face the joy was one sided...

'So? What'll it be?' Tuck composed himself, his grin not diminishing an inch. FDR was talking about the bet of course and Tuck knew exactly how to pour some salt on his wounds. So maybe FDR wasn't the only devil around. So what?

'Same deal.' FDR looked at him, expecting some further clarification, then it hit him. His jaw literally dropped open.

'You want me to go to an Adult Store?' Tuck nodded. 'And buy a sex toy?' Tuck nodded. 'And that's it?'

'Pretty much.' He didn't think FDR would actually do it! He expected for the other to sulk for a while, whine about his terribly unfair fate, vow to take some sort of revenge on him, and then the balance would be restored. See, Tuck knew that FDR only kept his end of the deal when it suited him.

'Fine.' FDR drew himself up, and yep, sure enough, there was the pout. Tuck found it rather cute and it made him think of a kitten, one with claws. Nothing else was said and FDR grabbed his coat leaving the building. Tuck waited for the BANG of the door before shaking his head, his good humour un-phased, and moved to turn on the TV.

And now he was gawking at FDR, a brown paper bag in his left hand, not quite sure of what to do. No way! Surely FDR was just messing with him and there was nothing in that bag. Surely the other agent hadn't actually gone to an Adult Store and bought a sex toy. Surely he was overthinking this. But then again, FDR was nothing if not stubborn.

'So...You actually did it?'

'Yep.' FDR unzipped his coat and tossed it somewhere on the couch. He was only wearing a thin blue shirt under and half the buttons were undone. He proceeded to discard that, not quite in a hurry but not slow either. Tuck tried, and failed, not to stare but FDR knew how to turn him on and he never hesitated to use that against him.

'What are you doing mate?' Blue eyes met gold. The shirt joined the abandoned jacket.

'Well, you didn't actually think i suffered through that sort of humiliation for nothing do you? Come on man, you have to know me better than that.' FDR teased but Tuck DID know him better than that. He knew EXACTLY what that tone of voice meant, or that barely visible dilating of his pupils, or that leering smile. He knew it all and he was worried because it never meant anything good. EVER.

'You lost the bet, and it was your idea, not mine, so you can't lash out at me.' FDR just grinned that cocky grin of his and moved back until he pressed against the back of the armchair. Tuck stayed fixed to his spot. He was certain that should he give into temptation, and oh boy was it tempting, he would come to regret it.

'Wanna see it?' FDR held out the paper bag and Tuck's eyes automatically moved to it.

'Not particularly.' It was a bit silly but Tuck had never actually seen/though of/used a sex toy before. He was one of those unadventurous lovers and frankly the idea unnerved him a little. He didn't let it show.

'But how else will you know for certain that I'm telling the truth hm? What if I lied and I never kept my end of the bargain?' FDR was studding him carefully, noting the tiniest flicker of uncertainty. That was enough. He was carefully setting the trap for his dear little rabbit and he could practically taste the stew...

'I trust you. Sides it wouldn't be the first time you flaked out.' Tuck flashed him a grin and his temperament sparked for a nanosecond.

'I suppose it's true what they say about British men after all.' Jackpot! FDR knew exactly where each and every one of Tuck's buttons were and he was a master at hitting them in deadly combinations.

'What are you talking about?' Tuck scoffed but it was the tiniest bit forced.

'You know. How you're all scary cats and boring, especially in the bedroom? I'm just saying you don't have to be ashamed of it. I understand perfectly. You just don't have the balls for it.' FDR smirked, delighted to see Tuck frown and his eyes acquire that dangerous look like before he was about to shoot someone in the heart. It was a fantastic turn on.

'Careful mate. You might say something you'll regret.' He took a step forward and FDR nearly shook with lust, the vibe was that scary. But he knew Tuck would never hurt him. He wasn't the type. He was just a rabbit in the end and no matter what he said he would be safe.

'I doubt it. And I'm only stating a fact. You're the one who's scared of a simple toy. Pretty lame dude.' He taunted, unaware of the dangerous waters he was treading. Tuck was _this_ close to snapping and FDR was not prepared for the consequences. 'You can't touch me-'

Before the last word left FDR's mouth Tuck was in front of him, any trace of amusement long gone. His hands shot out like vipers and bit the other agent's biceps making him wince. In that second the younger man knew exactly what it felt like to stare straight into a crazed bull's furious eyes. His heart turned the size of a bullet and when Tuck's lips descended upon his he couldn't even put up an opposition. It was like one man trying to stand before a tsunami.

Tuck continued to apply pressure to his grips, aware of FDR's pained expression and knowing full well the skin would yield some vicious bruises the next day. Without breaking the kiss he pulled the other to him and basically pushed him towards the dinner table. Frankly any horizontal surface would do for what he had in mind and the table just happened to be the nearest. A beautiful piece carved out of oak wood. Perfect for the man he was planning to devour.

FDR yelled, a sound which was muffled by the dominating mouth above, when he hit the hard surface hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. For a second he was dazed and didn't realize he had been freed. His mouth swallowed large gulps of air, as if storing up for a possible shortage in the near future. When he came to his sense once more Tuck was back, his eyes so unnaturally gold they looked demonic. But FDR couldn't suppress the shiver of anticipation running up his spine. It seemed his trap backfired and caught him instead but that was okay. In fact, it seemed better.

Tuck was no longer wearing his t-shirt, having discarded it a second ago, and FDR let his oceanic orbs roam over the impressive build and the twisting tattoos around the Brit's arms. They seemed to dance when Tuck flexed his muscles and FDR was mesmerized by their hypnotic movements. He shivered at the sudden drop in temperature and realized Tuck had taken advantage of his distracted state of mind to yank his jeans off.

'Wait Tuck! You're not gonna take me dry are you?' FDR's eyes widened in alarm. He knew from previous not so pleasant experiences that it was NOT fun. Surely Tuck wouldn't hurt him...

'No mate. I can't touch you, remember?' FDR's fear turned to confusion but he didn't have time to ponder the question. He threw his head back and it hit the wood with an audible THUD. His legs were pushed apart and upwards, exposing his slightly elevated but. Tuck threw the empty paper bag on the table, above FDR's head, its contents currently pushing into the tight tunnel of clamping muscle.

Tuck lubricated the dildo beforehand of course, because no matter how angry he was he would never actually intentionally hurt his partner. His eyes were glued to FDR's every flashing expression as more and more of the dark green length was swallowed up. FDR was not prepared for that. His plan was only to embarrass Tuck and alright, he admitted it. He may have gone too far, but he never expected for Tuck to actually use the toy on him. He didn't think the British agent had it in him. Boy was he wrong...

Tuck's fingers touched skin and he realized the entire length was inside the, sure to be, hot passage. He paused for a moment, turning the object from left to right, letting FDR accustom to the sensation. But as soon as he noticed a hint of pleasure caressing FDR's visage he removed the toy only to drive it back in. The other agent opened his eyes and mouth to yell or moan but only managed to gasp, choked by his own indecision. Tuck continued to thoroughly fuck the other with a deadly onslaught of fast and powerful thrusts. FDR's fingers clung to the edge of the table, his nails digging into the wood desperately. He was cursing like there was no tomorrow and calling for Tuck. Begging him to stop and go harder. Begging him to replace the cold toy with something so much hotter. Something only he could give.

FDR's hair was wet and clinging to his forehead, the rest of his body just as drenched with fresh sweat. He couldn't take it much longer. In a desperate attempt to reach his orgasm before he would completely lose his sanity, FDR enclosed his fingers around his member but Tuck was having none of that. The bruising vice was back and strapping down his wrist. FDR looked pleadingly into the other pair of eyes but saw no mercy there. The thrusts sped up.

'Pl-Please...Tuck!...I can't!...' FDR's toes curled, the electric jolts traveling through his nervous system like miniature lightning bolts. But they weren't quite enough. He was so close he could practically taste his orgasm but something was holding him back and only Tuck could give it to him.

'No. You dug your own grave mate and now you have to lay in it.' At this rate FDR really though he would die and tears began to form at the corners of his eyes. Tears of frustration and want.

'I-I'm...Sorry!...I can't anymore!...' Tuck continued to thrust the jade coloured dildo in and out, fucking FDR right out of his mind. But upon seeing the streaming tears his eyes softened though he was still not in a forgiving mood. He thrust the toy in but didn't bring it back out and FDR's breath hitched, unsure if this new development was a good or a bad thing.

'All right then. Show me just how sorry you are.' FDR glanced up at Tuck, his fingers itching to reach for his cock or for the cold intruder in his rear and relieve himself. But he dared not. Plus his right wrist was still pinned down. Slowly, because he couldn't move any faster, the younger agent rose and with boneless legs descended to the floor, his knees hitting the soft carpet a little too hard. He took no notice. He held Tuck's hungry eyes as he lowered himself, both his hands free now.

FDR let his talented fingers move to Tuck's chest and trail down one with the rest of him, running over the budding nipples and the chiselled abs. Coming to rest on the defined hips while his even more skilled tongue flicked out to touch that one part which could drive any man crazy. Tuck hissed, his hand moving to grasp FDR's messy hair. The hot breath danced across his member and the tongue continued to lick here and there, obviously teasing him. Tuck tightened his grasp in the strands, feeling some of them tear out, and urged FDR to stop his games. He didn't push the other but it was clear who was in charge...

Getting the hint, FDR took the whole length between his soft lips so suddenly Tuck lost himself and moaned wantonly. He could practically feel FDR's smirk but for once it didn't bother him. He was lost in the multiple sensations enclosing his most sensitive organ. The tongue moved to trace the underside of the length, the cheeks applied suctions, the teeth grazed the skin ever so lightly and the moaning vibrations every time the head hit the back of the throat were absolute bliss. FDR was really good at what he was doing and he easily swallowed the entire organ, and it wasn't a small one, without gaging. If his apology was as sincere as his sucking Tuck was ready to forgive him.

'That's enough.'

FDR was pulled to his feet and he was back on the table with his legs in the air, hooked over Tuck's broad shoulder, before he had time to blink. His lips were attacked with renewed vigour and he was more than willing to become their prisoner. He gasped, the sound rolling off of his tongue and reverberating through Tuck, when he found himself abruptly empty. His muscles clamped automatically and opened expectantly almost as if wishing for the damn toy to be back despite his many previous protests.

Instead something else took its place. Something hot and throbbing and powerful and FDR felt like he was truly losing his mind. Tuck moved to worship FDR's arched throat, knowing this was one of his most sensitive spots, while he began to move at a punishing pace from the start unworried about hurting the other. He was more than prepared for his ramming thrusts. Tuck was adamant in bringing FDR down. He wanted to reduce him to nothing. He wanted to erase his memory and only leave one word in his vocabulary. More.

'More!..T-Tuck!...More!...' Tuck bit his shoulder, his teeth imprinting on the flawless skin. Like an artist painting an empty canvas he was going to decorate the flesh with blooming marks. His marks.

The table moved with the momentum of their wild tumble and creaked, adding yet another noise to the symphony of pleasure. The room was filled with that scent distinctly associated with sex. FDR clawed at Tuck's inked arms, leaving some marks of his own, and that proved to be the last missing factor. With one extra powerful roll of his hips Tuck came, starting a chain reaction and dragging his partner down with him.

The noises around the room settled to only ragged gasps. Tuck's pillaring arms gave way and he crashed on top of FDR who was actually happy for the added heat. The fresh sweat was cooling down fast and even at room temperature it made him shiver. He ran his fingers through Tuck's hair affectionately, a lazy cat sort of smile playing on his lips. The Brit glanced up and mirrored his grin.

'You are one sore loser mate.'

'Not true. You just can't take a bit of teasing.'

'I can take your teasing all night long.' Blue and gold eyes flickered.

'Oh? Is that a challenge?'

'All. Night. Long.'

* * *

**And so I have brought to completion my first fic involving a sex toy. Seriously ppl, this is big for me XD Now i need u to tell me if it was any good. (constructive criticism is also always welcomed of course!) Thank you all in advance! **

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


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